Disaffiliation
by saunatonttu
Summary: Just like Irie Shouichi is going to betray Millefiore, Gokudera Hayato betrays Vongola. AU. Mentions of drug abuse, mentioned sex. Rated M, perhaps unnecessarily. Not-quite 10059, and hinted 10051. Onesided 5927. AU.


**title:** Disaffiliation

**rating:** M for the brief mentions of sex. VERY brief mentions - don't get your hopes up.

**characters:** Gokudera Hayato, Byakuran, mentions of Irie Shouichi, Sawada Tsunayoshi, Yamamoto Takeshi and others. Not-quite 10059. Hinted 10051. strongly hinted onesided 5927.

**summary:** Just like Irie Shouichi is going to betray Millefiore, Gokudera Hayato betrays Vongola. AU. Mentions of drug abuse, mentioned sex.

**notes:** I have no idea where this came from.

* * *

Gokudera Hayato is stuck.

He's stuck like a helpless insect in an intricate web made by a spider, and he doesn't know how to free himself – the more he struggles, the tigher the invisible web holds him in its wicked embrace.

There's nothing he can do to free himself from the net of lies and betrayals he has woven himself into, and he knows that much – he's _not_ a hopeless idiot like Yamamoto, who sees the positives and possibilities that are the least likely to happen and strives for them with the positivity and naivety of a kindergardner.

Or maybe it is Yamamoto's happiness and contentedness and _pure ignorance _to the situation that Gokudera envies, and that envy makes his words harsher towards the Rain Guardian nowadays, nearly as harsh as the ones he had sprouted as a teenager after reluctanctly getting acquainted with the baseball idiot.

(Not that Yamamoto is much around these days. None of them are, not really.)

But, however reluctantly, Hayato has to acknowledge one thing – getting angry at Yamamoto and screaming his head off at the swordsman never removes the source of his troubles nor the means he's using to reach his purpose.

However, it does make him feel slightly more at ease when he's done with scolding Yamamoto for whatever shitty thing he has said to the Tenth – never mind that even watching Tenth nowadays is painful, for many reasons.

* * *

It's a scorching, sweltering day in Italy when he goes to meet Byakuran at the Gesso's private villa hidden deep in Italy's countryside, the sand on the road rustling and flying as Hayato is escorted to the home of Gesso famiglia's arrogant bastard of a boss.

(He's also a fucking charmer, in case you don't know.)

Hayato keeps his head low, dark emerald eyes focused at his feet and posture as tense as a statue's as the limo pulls up to the garage. He doesn't need to look up to know that Byakuran is already waiting for him at the front door despite his maids and butlers and other servants telling him to go back inside and let them greet the guest in his stead.

Hayato curses the fact that Byakuran refuses to make these meetings private – there are so many mouths to be shut up permanently if he decided that this deal just isn't worth the trouble he's going through for Byakuran. Nonetheless, he gets out from the limo himself, brushing past the people who have come out to greet him – some of whom he is already too well-acquainted, he acknowledges with disgust – and heads straight for Byakuran, whose smile rivals the brightness of the sun(the literal and figurative ones both), and quietly lights a cigarette he had been needing for the past few hours, throughout that whole drive from Rome to this place surrounded by slender trees and their branches.

"Hayato-kun~," comes the cheerful greeting spoken with lips that could utter the most venomous commands of murder in the same breath. Hayato is no coward, but he almost shudders at this thought.

"Byakuran," Hayato greets stiffly, kneeling down as Byakuran extends his arm towards him, and then taking Byakuran's hand on his own before leaning down to kiss the opal on the Mare Ring adorning Byakuran's slender middle finger. The lit cigarette on his free hand.

The opal feels cold against his warm, pink flesh, and Hayato is glad – for that means that Byakuran hasn't been forced to use his Sky Flames today. Not yet, anyway. Another family or two are safe; not that Byakuran _bothers_ killing them personally. Oh, no, not when there are underlings that can do the job just as well and efficiently and perhaps a little less messily.

Byakuran hums happily at the show of loyalty and submission – because that's what it _is_; Hayato showing that he submits to Byakuran and follows his demands – and withdraws his hand to make a gesture towards the opened doors. "Let's get in, Hayato-kun."

Gokudera Hayato frowns at Byakuran's amicable appearance – loosely tied necktie, white vest and black dress shirt, not to mention Byakuran's wavy, spiky hair and that amused gleam in those purple depths – before reluctantly going into the villa, accepting his fate once more.

Even if he works for this bastard, it does not mean that he has to _like_ him, or even tolerate his ass – but Byakuran doesn't take disrespect, and Hayato bites his lips hard to keep himself quiet and the nasty remarks to a minimum.

He needs Byakuran, after all – oh god, he needs him so much – but he hates it all the same. Why does it have to be Byakuran fucking Gesso that can help him in his time of need?

* * *

Byakuran's all relaxed on the couch he has seated himself on, arms splayed over the back of the couch and head tilted slightly as he gazes at Hayato through his half-lidded eyes. Hayato bites back the urge to ask what the fuck he was looking at – instead, his hands clench on the black suit pants he wears for this occasion.

His hands itch to grab his dynamites from the safe place he keeps them on his body, but by now he has learnt to queanch that urge – the years of being Vongola Decimo's right-hand man have taught him great deal, although patience still isn't one of his virtues.

_This man, Byakuran... _

"You look tense," Byakuran observes with a lazy drawl to his voice, hooded eyes intent on Hayato's troubled visage. "Does Tsunayoshi-kun suspect anything? Or the rest of his Guardians~?" Byakuran's lips curve into a mocking but gentle smile – there's no need to hide anything from Hayato. "It would be too bad if they found out, Hayato-_kun_."

_Of course I'm fucking tense,_ Hayato wants to say, wants to spit at this man's face, _it's not that damn easy to betray the Tenth like this, you sicko. _But despite what he thinks, he has been doing this for the past few weeks already – transferring information from the Vongola to the Millefiore, directly to Byakuran himself.

It's a delicate job that requires subtlety and cunning beyond the book smarts Hayato holds – and it's like walking on a knife's edge, the sharp edge digging deep into his feet as he balances himself on it. Vongola was – _is_, Hayato reminds himself – the strongest, most invulnerable mafia organization with ties to every aspect of life in its territory; it makes the Vongola so tempting to infiltrate, but at the same time it makes it impossible – and Hayato thinks this is why Byakuran wants somebody from the _inside,_ someone who has access to even the most important information and files.

And that is where Gokudera Hayato comes in all of the right-hand man glory and imaginary sparkles of pride he has.

_What __**pride**__,_ he asks himself but he shoves that away – he does all of this for a reason, and what worth was a mafia's pride in the first place?

Once upon a time, it probably had meant a whole lot to him – the right to be called Vongola Decimo's right-hand man had once struck a chord within him and made him smile and flush with happiness he now questions and distrusts.

_He had been such a fool back then._

"They don't suspect anything," Hayato eventually replies, _rasps _out these words from his throat as he frowns at his hands, white teeth biting on the end of an unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips. He briefly considers his chances of catching a lung cancer – when he's near Byakuran, he tends to smoke twice as more cigarettes than usual, and he has already consumed two – resulting often in two empty packs and a worried frown from Tsuna, who is not even hiding his worry about Hayato's smoking habits after all these years.

"I would know if they did." And this is not a lie fabricated to fool Byakuran – heck no, Hayato knows that Byakuran can detect lies like those hounds at airports find drugs.

Byakuran smiles indulgently at his words; Hayato's frown deepens as he chews on the cancer stick.

"I see that the Vongola's Hyper Intuition is not quite as worthy of its reputation as I thought, then," Byakuran drawls as he leans back, head resting against the couch as his eyes close fully, fingers tapping idly against his own suit pants.

Hayato bites his lip at that, but refrains from saying anything in response as he stiffly reaches for the cup of tea placed upon the table between them. The warm cup in his hands soothes him, just as the fragrance of the herbal tea does, and he releases a soft breath through his nose.

"Did you have something in mind, Byakuran." It's not question; it's a plain statement to urge Byakuran to hurry up with this meeting because Hayato is uncomfortable with staying in this overly luxurious villa for longer than he has any need or time to.

Besides, Byakuran is fucking creepy, and while Hayato is the right-hand man to the strongest mafia group in the whole world, even he can feel his skin crawl when Byakuran talks in the enticingly sweet voice of his that in the end is just playful pretense meant to fool people.

"I just wanted to snatch Hayato-kun away from all the stress for once," Byakuran replies flippantly, eyes closed and lips curved into an amused and clearly malicious smile. Hayato makes a mental note of never looking at Byakuran's smiles straight ever again – they're creeping him out, seriously.

"Is that the only reason?" Hayato lifts an unimpressed brow as he sips his tea. Ahhh, this shit is good.

"Well," Byakuran drawls as he lifts his hand and wriggles one spidery finger, beckongin the silver-haired right-hand man to come to his side. "There _may_ be something I need you to do for me, Hayato-kun..."

Hayato sets the cup down with an audible clink and a soft, reluctant huff before he rises from his seat stiffly and walks over to Byakuran, who swiftly pulls Hayato down to the couch by his side. Inconspicuously or not, one of Byakuran's hands move to rest on Hayato's thigh.

Hayato doesn't move away.

"And that something is...?" Hayato questions as he gives Byakuran an unimpressed stare. This is the Millefiore's boss – ruthless, menacing, and outright _childish_. It's a good disguise, Hayato decides with growing exasperation. It's no wonder none of them had realized what Byakuran has been planning to do all this time.

An actor among actors – that type of person that Gokudera Hayato utterly despises – and only a little different from Rokudo Mukuro, that satanic piece of shit.

Said satanic piece of shit would obviously maim Hayato for even thinking that – Mukuro has never liked being likened to the Millefiore boss, after all – and the right-hand man of the Vongola would probably earn a stab from the trident that has shed blood and taken people's autonomy from them.

Hayato knows – once upon a time, he was taken by the same trident, the same lunatic that somehow has become one part of Mist Guardian.

Byakuran leans closer until his nose pokes at Hayato's cheek, his other hand moving to caress the bomber's other surprisingly unblemished cheek. "You see, I need some intel on Hibari-chan and what he knows," Byakuran whispers against Hayato's skin, lips touching the cheek while smiling gleefully. Hayato shudders – both at the mention of Hibari Kyouya and the unwanted touches on his face that make him crumble on the inside a little more. They're just like the touches he desires from Tsuna, has desired for a long time; the gentle, kind touches that reflect Tsuna's kind personality.

But this isn't Tsuna.

This is Byakuran, and the gentleness is mocking – it tears at Hayato's heart in the worst possible way because he knows he can't get it from Tsuna, not anymore, because Tsuna is-

Tsuna is...

"The Foundation?" Hayato murmurs, his fingers now clutching Byakuran's white vest as Byakuran kisses his cheek lightly, nose sliding on Hayato's cheek in nuzzling motions.

It's a hot afternoon in the countryside of the boot-shaped nation, and Gokudera Hayato spends it listening to Byakuran's whims and desires while the mafia don takes him in the way Hayato has longed for Tsuna to do.

The Tsuna he once knew, anyway.

* * *

Byakuran's kisses feel like poison on his skin, no matter how teasingly—_mockingly_-gentle they are, and Hayato hates himself a little more for betraying Tenth like this.

No, not the Tenth Tsuna has become, but the Tenth Hayato idolizes, _adores_, writes thousands of unsent notes for. Hundreds of them still litter Hayato's desk in his own office in the Vongola manor, and he knows he ought to get rid of them _soon, _before anyone with too much curiosity and too much time in their hands come by them – that Lambo, for example.

Hayato sighs both at this painful thought and at the lips that circle one of his sensitive nipples, the wet sucking sound doing nothing to erase the warm blush coursing through the skin of his face and ears.

Byakuran – he knows, _he knows_ – is a monster in sheep's clothing – a deranged sheep that will fuck you up mentally, but his true self is much worse, Hayato thinks. If Byakuran ever loses composure, he fears, the world might just end.

Although the course of this world is taking will end in destruction, anyway, if and when Byakuran gets what he wants.

"Hayato-kun~," Byakuran's sing-song voice croons into his ear as he shoves himself into the right-hand man of Sawada Tsunayoshi, who cries out shamefully – who hates Byakuran as much as he hates the mafia world for all of its crimes, for tainting that purity that had been his beloved Tenth.

It's gentle and loving, the way Byakuran moves within him – he does it because he knows how much it hurts the silver-haired man, he does it because it binds Hayato to him much more, loyalty and otherwise.

"You'll always be loyal to me, yeah?" Byakuran bites at Hayato's neck, not hard enough to leave a mark because it would be bad for his plans if anyone finds out this not-quite-affair.

(It's not affair because there's no casual hanging out or romance involved.)

(Calling it an occasional fuck would be too romantic, as well.)

"Yes," Hayato answers – not because Byakuran needs the answer but because _he _himself needs to remember this resolve, this conviction of going through with this. Of betraying Tsuna... no, betraying Vongola _Decimo_ and his guardians, Hayato's not-quite-friends and not-quite-allies and former-friends-now-questionable-acquaintances.

Byakuran's hands on his skin make these thoughts disappear, and it is good, for Hayato needs blankness as much as lucidness into his mind, and Byakuran's thrusts ensure that his mind if void of anything else than this sickening pleasure that only comes from loveless, dispassioned sex.

It's another means of control on Byakuran's part – it doesn't bother him as much as it used to, and he doesn't know if that's a bad thing or not.

* * *

Hibari has always been the most secretive one of them all, asides from Rokudo Mukuro – but that is the Mist's nature, hiding the truth and veiling it with lies that could very well be true themselves. Hibari is different in that part – he has no need to hide his intentions, and he doesn't particularly have any intentions that need to be scrutinized all that deeply because he's a rather simple man to Hayato's mind.

Fighting, blood – the thrill of all those things is what forms the core of Hibari Kyouya's being.

However, now Hayato finds himself questioning his own preconceptions of the Cloud Guardian as he looks through the papers in his hands, the many folders that include information about the boxes and box weapons and, how the hell is this possible, intel on Millefiore's movements.

There's intel on the captain of the eighth squad, Glo Xinia, and Hayato mentally snorts at the lameness of the names Byakuran has picked for his followers.

He's slightly surprised when there's no one named _pansy_ in Byakuran's squads and servants – but, perhaps, that name is reserved for the captain of the second squad: Irie Shouichi.

Hayato wrinkles his nose in distaste at the thought of that four-eyed meek engineer Byakuran has told him of – well, without Byakuran, he would have known anyway; who wouldn't know of the person who has helped to equip Millefiore with the latest technology and weapons that have made Millefiore's quick rise in power possible?

Byakuran has told him of Shouichi, has spoken of the redhead while fucking Hayato, and the silver-haired man thinks he knows about Irie much more than he has ever wanted to know about anyone.

Hayato shakes that musing away with the strict self-control he has honed during these long weeks and month of plotting and of hiding, of pain and of desperation, of growing tension between Millefiore and Vongola.

Back to the reports the Foundation had.

There are files upon files about the Millefiore Famiglia – there are some of Byakuran, but only very few. It's almost shocking how little Hibari and his subordinates have managed to find out about the white-haired menace – but Hayato reminds himself that this is _Byakuran_ he is thinking of. He himself doesn't know Byakuran at all, either – he knows the tidbits Byakuran allows him to know, he knows of Byakuran's goal, but he does not know of Byakuran's powers asides the omnipotent one that had his legs queal and bend the first time he had witnessed it.

He has a feeling Byakuran hasn't even shown anyone of his world-hopping like he had shown Hayato that day.

He still remembers that _vision_ -

Hayato sucks in a deep breath as tears prickle at his dull emerald eyes. That _vision_ had sealed it – it had made him switch sides completely, to act as an agent for the Millefiore Famiglia. Well, it had been the Gesso, back then.

The memory makes his chest heavy with suppressed emotions and a sense of dread that has loomed over him for what felt like months that keep stretching on and on with no end in sight.

(_But there would be an end,_ he knows.)

Gokudera Hayato swallows thickly as he memorizes the information in the Foundation's folders – photographic memory helps witht that.

Thankfully Hibari Kyouya is taking a trip around the world now so he won't ever know that Hayato has been snooping around. Hopefully Millefiore would already be in control of Vongola whenever the fickle Cloud would return to Italy – or Japan, whichever is more likely.

Hayato flips the folder shut, content with what he has studied so far. There are no real threats to Millefiore in these folders, he knows, but as Byakuran has mentioned before _knowledge is power_ and knowing what your enemies know is that much more valuable.

The Foundation, even amongst the Vongola, is a secretive organization that shares its secrets only when necessary – and if Hayato still were the ever-so-loyal right hand to the Vongola Decimo, he would be frustrated that they had this much information when the Tenth didn't.

But as it stands right now, his loyalties are shaken-no, that is not right.

He is loyal to the Tenth – to a point where he betrays the Vongola Famiglia for the sake of that man.

Hayato smiles sadly at that thought.

It's ironic how he has grown up to be a man as loyal as a human's best animal friend when he had once been a little brat who would light a dynamite and stick it up someone's ass before trusting someone. There had been no _trust_ back in those days – none at all.

Tsuna had changed all that...

* * *

He still remembers the first time Tsuna accidentally killed a person. It had been for the sake of his friends, of course, but the haunted look in Tsuna's eyes that had always been there ever since that day (it only grew more visible with accumulating mountain of corpses) tells Hayato that Tsuna cannot forgive himself for it.

(_The Tenth's lips had trembled when he had questioned Gokudera why he was getting away with murder._)

(_Hayato's heart had cracked._)

He remembers that broken, despairing look Tsuna had worn the following days after that incident – he remembers because it's impossible to forget how fragile the Tenth had seemed back then, just what his first impression of Tsuna back in the middle school had been.

(_Weak. Fragile. Skinny. Unworthy of becoming the Tenth_.)

Except that this time Hayato didn't hold any resentment towards Tsuna for the weakness he had shown – he understands it, even now, that pain of killing and the effects it has on people like Tsuna, like the former Tenth.

(Only God knows that Hayato too still dreams of those times when he was that snot-nosed brat in the streets, arrogant and so angry at everything, and ready to stick dynamites up to questionable places in a human body.)

And this, in introspect, is just one of the things that keeps stealing the Tenth he had adored further and further away from him, away from the world, and Hayato is filled with regret every time he thinks about Tsuna's metaphorical yet all too concrete fall from the glory that had been set on his shoulders.

* * *

The first time he had seen his boss, his beloved friend (his one-sided love), experiencing signs of usage of the experimental drugs Tsuna had somehow managed to get for himself without anyone noticing-

(_such is the stealth of Vongola Decimo_)

-had been after the massacre in Venice, in which Rokudo Mukuro's vessel had been involved along with Tsuna and Hibari-

(_he hadn't been there, but from Hibari's expression upon returning, it had been safe to say that some form of vengeance had been taken_)

-and Gokudera had heard that Tsuna had gotten himself injured, but as always, Tsuna had brushed the medical care off as Hibari and Mukuro's vessel had been in a more dire need for it. It was just as he had expected from the kind-hearted Tenth, of course, but he was there to drag his boss off to Shamal, whom he was going to _force_ to treat a male patient if it was the last thing he would do.

(Oh, the porn magazines he'd have to sacrifice.)

Anyway, he had gone to Tsuna's office – he had been surprised to find the door locked but as the right-hand he obviously had a spare key just in case of a mysteriously disappearing paperwork emerbency (yes, it had been Reborn-san's idea to give him the key) – and what he had found had made him blink for a few times in sheer confusion that was equivalent to the time when he had accidentally walked in on teenager Lambo masturbating.

...Yeah, that was one memory he wasn't proud of having.

"Tenth?"

He remembers the way his own sound had wavered, how his eyes had widened until his eyeballs were bulging out from their sockets in a very cartoony and unnatural manner.

Because, heck, it's not every day you see your boss rocking back and forth on his chair and giggling like he had been watching some kid's show and remembered just how funny those things could be when there were so many hidden sexual jokes that had been so lost on them as five-year-olds.

Tsuna had been laughing – and it hadn't been the gentle, tinkling laughter that made Hayato's veins fill with blood and adrenaline, and at which his heart would thump extra painfully because _fuck, that's such an amazing sound_.

No, this laughter had been a very fucked up version of Tsuna's kind laugh, and it made Hayato's blood run cold in his veins, and he had been damn sure he could feel icicles forming around his heart and probably kidneys and liver as well because suddenly his stomach had felt a thousand times heavier.

It had been like... hmm... y'know that kind of laughter when some creepy murderer in those some pretty lame ass 80s movies always lets out when they think their plan is going perfectly?

Yeah, it had been like that – high-pitched, like chalk clawing at the blackboard, and Hayato hadn't been able to stop the grimace from forming on his face as he _watched_ Tsuna bouncing on his chair, hands twitching restlessly on the Tenth's lap as tears trickled down the boss' cheeks-

It had been those tears that had disarmed Hayato completely, and made him run to his boss (his saviour, his best friend, his unrequited love) with worry blatantly obvious in his eyes and then he was already shaking the Tenth, trying to fix him the only way he knew-

"Ha-hayato?" It was that gurgled, choked out and eerily _distant_ call of his name that made Hayato halt his urgent movements that had made Tsuna's head roll around like some lifeless doll's that a child played with.

"T-tenth?" He couldn't stop himself from shaking at the sight of Tsuna's eyes that had been once so bright, so full of conviction and _life_ and adoration and everything that had made him love Tsuna-

-but now all of that had been replaced with a look more broken and hollow than anything he had seen before.

Of course Tsuna hadn't been the same with the accumulating bodies at his metaphorical doorstep, but to think that the Tenth would crack to much-

Hayato's (_Gokudera's_, the right-hand man's) eyes fell onto the mahogany desk next, and thin brows furrowed deep on his face as he stared at what could only be an injection needle.

_Shitshitshitshit-!_

"Tenth!" Hayato shook Tsuna's shoulders harder, as if that would help in getting rid of that eerily dazed look on Tsuna's face, as if it would help bringing the clear-headed and relatively sane Tsuna back.

(Relatively because Hayato had already seen him cracking. The signs had been there all along.)

Tsuna's (_broken_) eyes gazed at him, and a chortle left those terribly pale lips. "Hayato... Ha-ya-to," Tsuna's lips articulated the name perfectly, but the voice was all over the place, and Hayato winced at the sound. "Let's play Twister, hehehe."

Hayato briefly wondered if he had been mistaken and Tsuna was merely drunk and not high on any drugs. He side-eyed at the needle on the table with a troubled frown.

"Gokudera-kun-"

That name Tsuna had used before any of them had been broken, before _Tsuna_ had been broken by the mafia life, managed to turn Hayato's full attention to the brunet.

"Gokudera-kun," Tsuna repeated, hands now up on Hayato's (Gokudera's, the right hand's) shoulders, eyes filled with painful haze that caused Hayato's jaw to clench so tightly.

"You need to get to a doctor, Tenth," he said, urgently, and it was now that he realized that Tsuna might have mixed painkillers with alcohol, or that drug that he suspected Tsuna may have injected into himself.

"Naawww," Tsuna drawled, head lolling to a side as he chortled and pulled Hayato instead. "I feel really, really _good_, Gokudera-kun." That name, again.

"I feel better than I have in a while, in fact," Tsuna had continued with an uncharacteristic lilt as he gazed up at Haya- Gokudera with eyes that were dim and unseeing, looking at things Gokudera didn't see."Hey, hey. Gokudera-kun, I wanna go home." Tsuna was so bubbly right then, and Hayato didn't know what to think of it.

Heartbreaking, it was.

"Home?" he repeated the Tenth's words weakly. No, _Tsuna's_ words – because Tenth would never utter such weak words in his presence. In anyone's presence.

Tsuna nodded, weakly, eyelids halfway down as he stared up at Hayato with eyes that were not quite focused in the moment.

"Namimori," Tsuna continued, laughter bubbling from his lips as he played with Hayato's necktie, fingers brushing against Hayato's neck.

If that touch could burn, Hayato would have had a burn mark comparable to the size of Lal Mirch's mark that covered almost half of her face.

"It was fun, fun, fun," Tsuna repeated the last word like a broken record, and at this point Hayato couldn't hold himself and pulled the other man into a tight embrace. "Hibari-san was scary, but we had fun, Gokudera-kun-" Hayato was sure he could hear the tears trickling down Tsuna's cheeks as the boss laughed again, the sound choked by Hayato's shoulder.

Maybe he was drunk after all, Hayato decided. _Hoped._ Because drugs... just no, he couldn't imagine his innocent-

(_But Tenth isn't innocent, not anymore._)

-Tsuna doing something so stupid and reckless and _irresponsible_ as drugs.

* * *

As it turned out, Tsuna _had _been using experimental drugs.

How and when he had gotten his hands on them, Hayato still has no fucking clue (except that he does, but he's afraid of acknowledging it), but you could be damn sure that if he ever finds out who introduced the Tenth to drugs, there would be hell to pay.

As it turned out to be, it was- _is_ too fucking easy to get addicted to that particular brand of whatever mixture of opium and other shit it is – hence how Hayato has to tend for his boss's withdrawal symptoms by getting him more of it from wherever he can find it.

It pains him to do so, but he had never been able to deny the Tenth _anything_, especially when he looks at Hayato with such wide, _weary_ eyes that just tug at his heart for all the wrong reasons.

He is weak for Tsuna, for his boss, and he knows it but can't stop.

So he takes care of Tsuna, lets him buy the stuff and doesn't tell anyone, buys more of the drug for Tsuna himself, all of this while _hating_ himself for letting any of this happen to his Tenth, his _Juudaime_.

He watches Vongola Decimo sink deeper into the pits of depression and madness – madness that Tsuna manages to hide with friendly smiles and firm decisions and make-up.

Watching all of this, for Hayato, was the most painful thing ever.

He hated- _hates_ the mafia for corrupting his sweet Tenth.

* * *

He meets Byakuran for the first time face-to-face at a surprisingly bleak place.

It's a family restaurant, and Gokudera is alone – he has just finished a meeting with one of the Vongola mechanics, and now he's just eating pizza by himself because _damn_ pepperoni pizza is just what he needs after a long day at work.

Tsuna is falling deeper, and that too is pulling him down – that sheer weight of hopelessness that is tied to his heart is more than he can take.

Unbearable.

"Ahh, it seems like all the tables are full, _signore_ Gesso."

This conversations trickles by his ears, but he doesn't pay any attention to. The name _Gesso_ does ring a bell, but he shoves that feeling away before his paranoia gets the better of him.

There have been so many attempts at Tsuna's life this past week – he can't remember the names of the famiglia they were from anymore, even with his sharp memory. Maybe because he doesn't try to remember. Maybe because he doesn't want to.

A sound of chair being pulled back wakes him up, and Hayato looks up from his pizza, and suddenly his vision is full of white and purple and smiles-that-are-not-genuine.

"Mind if I sit here?" Hayato stares at the man with the air of a boss and the hair of an angel's wing, and while he's not enchanted at all by the sight, he shakes his head anyway, because fuck, the restaurant really is full and he isn't in the mood for an argument that would draw attention to himself.

"Go ahead." Hayato makes a vague gesture towards the chair on which the man has already seated himself.

Emerald eyes twitch.

Purple eyes stare back, and if eyes could smile, those eyes are definitely doing just that.

It's possibly the creepiest first impression Hayato has ever had of a person, and his first impression of _Xanxus_ had been bad enough all those years ago.

(Yeah, he still hates that man's guts, even though he has been told that their tempers are almost as bad.)

(_Almost_.)

The white-haired man – one well-dressed man, Hayato notices idly – smiles a dazzling smile before turning to dictate his order to the waiting waitress, who seems all sorts of giddy like she has just seen an angel or a gigolo.

Neither of those descriptions seem that far from the truth at this point of time, though Hayato still finds the guy creepy as heck with that wide smile that he's almost sure isn't genuine. It reminds him of Mukuro, except that this smile is way too cheerful, way too out there, but this smile too seems like its owner is laughing at some inside joke no one knows about.

"Thank you for sharing a table with me," those purple eyes turn to leer at him once more, "Gokudera Hayato-kun." The way those lips form his name is just a tad bit sinful, and Hayato feels himself bristle at the casual way the other has addressed him, like they have known each other for a long time.

"It's not a problem," Hayato decides to grumble out even as he gives the man a suspicious glare. Only those in the mafia world know his name – he sure as hell isn't known in other parts of society, although his sense of fashion is impeccable.

So, who the heck is this guy?

Heck, that's a funny word. Heh.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's impossible not to know the name of Vongola Decimo's most loyal right-hand man, Hayato-kun." And that smile widens as purple eyes narrow – Hayato realizes that this guy, this man, must be in the mafia too.

"_Who_-"

"Oh, I'm sure you haven't heard of me _yet_," the man smiles at him as he extends his hand over the table and settles it over Hayato's. "Byakuran Gesso," the white-haired not-quite-angel whispers, those eyes crinkling as they close and as that infuriating smile widens.

Hayato opens his mouth to retort something, but he shuts his mouth again for he remembers a time when Tsuna had been more clear, his eyes holding clarity that nowadays is rarely there, and when tensions in mafia had lain low.

"Gesso?" he repeats weakly.

"_Gesso?" _the memory of himself had asked from Tsuna who had nodded distractedly in response, those brows furrowed just like when he had been forced to do battle during his teen years.

Nowadays, Tsuna's brows never furrow during fights.

Hayato doesn't know how he's supposed to feel about that.

"_Yeah,"_ the memory of the Tenth speaks quietly into Hayato's ears, _"Gesso are a rising famiglia in the south." _

"_They'll be trouble."_

Tsuna's face had scrunched painfully, brown eyes flickering between reports and intel, and something heavily suffocating had been hanging over the brunet ever since that day.

Something far heavier than just drug abuse and the mountain of corpses in Tsuna's mind.

Byakuran smiles gently at him, at his tone, and presses his hand down on Hayato's a little more. "Indeed," he says, almost sardonic curve on his lips. "Who would have thought that you'd recognize the name of my famiglia, Hayato-kun."

It's now that Hayato realizes that Byakuran's speaking Japanese, using the honorifics he hasn't heard for so long, and the sense of painful familiarity – _Gokudera-kun, watch out!_ - to the days past is almost killing him on the inside. He treasures the past much more than he treasures the despicable present – he can only hope for a better future.

He scoffs as he takes a bite from his already cold pepperoni pizza, eyes glaring at Byakuran with all the suspicion he can muster right now – which is not much.

It's surprising how things can escalate from a simple circumstantial occurrence such as this.

* * *

"I can help you save Tsunayoshi-kun from the cruelty of this world, you know."

It's an offhanded, unexpected suggestion that has Hayato nearly choking on the last piece of his pizza and the red wine Byakuran had gotten for them to consume, despite Hayato's gruff reluctance and protests of this being too much and him never associating with mafia outside the Alliance.

Byakuran has shrugged all those aside with ease that is unnerving and annoying at the same time, and Hayato wonders whether the pros of sticking a stick of dynamite up Byakuran's nose outweigh the cons of disturbing the peace of Paolo's restaurant.

Hayato manages to clear his throat with effort, and he raises his head to give the well-dressed bastard a scathing but, despite himself, curious look.

"What the hell are you-" _How does he __**know**__?_

Byakuran's eyelids slide down, covering the purple irises from his view, and he makes a tutting sound. "Don't use such vulgar language, Hayato-_kun_," Byakuran murmurs, this time in Italian, and Hayato wonders why the hell they have been talking in Japanese all this time. "It's not very becoming for the Vongola _Decimo's_ right-hand man."

There's something utterly revolting in Byakuran's words, that tone of voice, and Hayato shudders against his own will.

"How-" This time, Hayato stops himself. _Duh,_ anyone in the mafia _knows_ the Vongola, even the lowest of the low and the worst of the worst. "What's on your mind?" he asks instead, frowning, because he's pretty sure this Byakuran fellow has something planned.

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Byakuran asks instead, lips curving into a crooked, almost condescending, grin. "I can _help _this world's Tsunayoshi-kun, if you let me, Hayato-kun."

Hayato stares, unblinking.

Byakuran laughs.

"Oh, but I suppose you'd want to know _how_ I know what's wrong with Tsunayoshi-kun first, right?"

Byakuran looks so incredibly smug as he leans back on his chair that it makes Hayato want to smack the Gesso boss right across his face – but as it is now, Hayato is paralyzed with his surprise at the words that had flown from Byakuran's sugar-loving lips.

(The guy has eaten twelve and a half marshmallows in the past twenty minutes.)

"You see," Byakuran starts as his eyelids slide down as his casually teasing expression turns into an outright devilish one, "I have this _ability._" Slender fingers tap threateningly at the surface of the table, the sound audible even over the chatter around them, and Hayato feels his heart twisting inside him.

That word, _ability_, makes his heart freeze, and although he has no such thing as Hyper Intuition, he instantly realizes that this is bad news. Very bad news.

And with Tsuna's troubled expression when he spoke of the Gesso Famiglia...

"I have no time for this shit," he says instead, though he feels the heavy blanket of uneasiness set on his shoulders, its grip unyiedling and vicious as he stares at Byakuran as unfazedly as possible.

"Haha, are you sure you want to say that, Hayato-kun~? Tsunayoshi-kun might be running out of time~." Byakuran's voice chimes like a bell, bright and clear, but that cunning smile contradicts the kindness. "After all, the withdrawal symptoms of that drug are _pretty_ extreme, fufu~."

What the fuck is up with this guy?

How does he _know_?

"Oh, you look quite pale there, Hayato-kun. Don't faint now, the first act is not over yet."

Yeah, this is fucking creepy, Hayato decides as he chews on his pizza, all colour disappearing from his face as though he's face-to-face with a ghost.

"The first? Is there going to be a second one, then?" he grunts out, mistrustful.

"Why, of course," Byakuran murmurs, hands set under his chin as he looks at Hayato in amusement. "There's _always_ a second act, Hayato-kun..."

"...but, anyhow, we really should get down to business."

* * *

Byakuran shows him the infinite possibilities after the conversation filled with angry and dubious remarks (guess which ones are whose), and needless to say, Hayato is speechless.

At first, he had thought it had been Byakuran's fault that Tsuna had gotten those drugs.

And he still suspects it – but after Byakuran shared that vision from another world with him, he can't say that he fully hates Byakuran for it.

After all, in the universe where Tsuna does not go down the road of experimental drug abuse, he becomes something much more terrifying than even Rokudo Mukuro is or ever could be.

Someone would call it a true mafia boss.

Hayato would have said so during his ignorant youth, as well.

What he saw in that dream-like haze had been a nightmare – a twisted version of everything he knows in this world – and it leaves him with a hollow hole in his chest that keeps throbbing painfully no matter how many times he recalls the memory.

Tsuna of that world, he had been... he is... not the Tenth Hayato has admired since middle school.

That Tsuna had laughed mercilessly as he sat on a literal mountain of corpses, blood-soaked and trembling with cold – it had been horrifying to watch.

And when Byakuran has pulled him away from that universe – _no, that __**future**__,_ that's what Byakuran has called it – he finds it hard to breathe, finds it hard not to cry because if this is Tsuna's future then that means he has failed to save his boss, his friend.

Byakuran, too, is breathless, but for a different reason, as he stands by Hayato's side – his face pale from exhaustion, but the cheerful smile on his lips never dies.

"See, Hayato-kun?" he breathes out giddily as his slender arms move to pull the right-hand man up from the ground. "I told you I was telling the truth~!"

Hayato doesn't speak up as he's hauled up – he feels like he could vomit, he feels... he feels like his already troubled world had just been turned into a shittier version of it. And that's putting it_ lightly._

"What in the..."

"Ah, but you mustn't tell about this to anyone, Hayato-kun!" Byakuran giggles just as giddily as he drapes the silver-haired man's arm over his shoulders. "This is a secret to those outside my famiglia, you see~."

"The fact that I can get information from every myself in existence, that is~."

* * *

It takes a while, but he comes to believe in Byakuran's power and ability – all the signs are apparent even in this time period, in this Vongola Tenth. If it weren't for the drugs, where would Sawada Tsunayoshi be?

That questions haunts Gokudera Hayato, day and night, even while he continues his wholehearted work for Tsuna.

He knows this Tsuna would be as broken and as cracked as the Tsuna in that parallel world, parallel future.

He hates that thought more than anything else; he hates it more than he hates himself for what he's about to do.

It starts innocently enough with just small data transfers about not so important members of the famiglia – they really don't mean much in the bigger picture, or that's what Hayato hopes at the very least.

The next step, he's forced to send data about the Guardians, even though he knows that Byakuran knows everything there is to know about them with that all-encompassing ability of his.

He figures it's just another test Byakuran sets for him to see how far he's willing to go for the sake of their plan – for the sake of allowing Byakuran to create a world where Sawada Tsunayoshi never became the Vongola Tenth boss and in which they would still be friends.

However...

Becoming Byakuran's sexual plaything has never been in their plans, and somehow it still happens.

How _that_ began, Hayato can't even remember anymore.

It's too late for regrets, though.

He has already gone too far to turn back.

The web of lies is already strangling him.

* * *

Byakuran likes this feisty Vongola Guardian, though this _like_ is as impersonal and detached as any clinical observation could be.

He smiles cruelly as he strokes at the silver hair of the sleeping Vongola Guardian, whose head is pressed against Byakuran's chest – it's not as much cuddling as it is making sure that Gokudera Hayato will not run into the night, although Byakuran knows he would not do such a thing.

Escaping is impossible in Hayato's situation.

The smile widens on his pale lips at the thought as his fingers thread through the tousled hair, fingertips massaging at the scalp absently.

He loves how he has messed Gokudera Hayato's mind beyond recognition; how he has managed to make Hayato choose Millefiore instead of Vongola. The thought makes him giggle a bit even now; oh, how he loves mind games!

Byakuran thinks about everything – he thinks about Yuni-chan and her shattered, naive soul; he thinks about Shou-chan and his imminent betrayal; he thinks about that battle-worn Tsunayoshi-kun of this universe – and he laughs under his breath.

His destiny of ruling the world is coming closer with every step he takes, and no one can stop it. Not Tsunayoshi-kun with his sudden decision of destroying the rings, not Shou-chan with his decision to jump to Vongola's boat.

Byakuran finds it ironic that while Shou-chan is taking Vongola's side, Hayato-kun has switched over to Millefiore.

_You take my right-hand man, and I take yours._

_Isn't this just fantastic, Tsunayoshi-kun?_

Byakuran _loves_ the irony of this situation.

* * *

"Tsunayoshi-kun of this time will die."

Hayato halts his movements, the fingers that hold the lighter curling almost reflexively around the metal case as he turned his head to Byakuran, who peers at Hayato from the luxuriously white couch on which he's sitting, legs spread wide and posture as slack and carefree as it often is.

Hayato's eyes narrow before he bites on his unlit cigarette harder. "I know," he grounds out in a way that sounds like he's choking on a thick furball.

"You told me that right from the start, _Byakuran._"

Hayato's rudeness and vulgar emphasis on his name doesn't seem to faze Byakuran in the least, and the boss of the Millefiore Famiglia merely hums a tune straight from an 80s horror movie.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, though, Hayato-_kun_~?" The honorific is like a slap in the face. A stinging bitchslap.

Hayato glares at the sorry excuse of a human being – is he even human, he can't be sure – and releases a long sigh through his nostrils. "I _am_ sure," he grunts, fixating his gaze on the mark right underneath Byakuran's eye because staring at it gives the impression that he's looking right into Byakuran's eyes even when he's not.

He's not really capable of looking anyone straight in the eye anymore, and it makes him sad and mad at the same time.

He wonders how much longer it would take for Yamamoto to notice this change – the Rain has been busy with assignments recently, so he has been out of the mansion – out of the country – most of the time.

Hayato isn't much of an actor.

Hayato wonders when it was that he has become ready to sacrifice the Tenth of this time for the sake of his ideal Tenth – in the same exhale, he decides that it doesn't matter much. The Tenth of the past and the Tenth of his time are different, and he can only care so much for one of them.

"After all the shit I have already done? I couldn't back off even if I wanted to," he scoffs mildly as he finally lights the cigarette, his hands trembling much to his displeasure and Byakuran's apparent amusement.

This time it's not Byakuran's villa, but rather the luxurious quarters in the Millefiore Famiglia's headquarters located in Rome – and Hayato feels a burning sense of guilt because this definitely counts as breaking off his loyalty to the Tenth.

This marks the breaking point – this meeting, and Byakuran's laughter that doesn't sound quite as innocent and charming as it would have once upon a time when Hayato was still innocent and pure from the world's cruelty.

God, it had been an eternity since then.

This where the plan truly begins – with Sawada Tsunayoshi's premeditated death.

* * *

Tsuna dies, and a part of him dies with Tsuna.

But he promises he will save him – he promises that he will set this perfect world up where Tsuna doesn't need to suffer.

* * *

He's now off to Japan – after the corpse, after Yamamoto whom he knows has been in Japan for the sake of Takesushi and his father's funeral and friends that need to be hidden from the world – and his mind is preoccupied with the thoughts of a younger Tenth, the one who has not seen the horrors of the mafia world through nothing but movies that are terribly clichéd, corny, and sugar-coated.

He feels unfairly giddy as he holds his suitcase against his chest as he gazes out the window on his right, the soft pillows of clouds visibly dancing outside, and Hayato finds it contradicting how incredibly _fluffy_ these clouds are – and then there's the Cloud that wanders almost aimlessly on its own whims, but never playfully, for it seeks out violence and challenges unpreceded.

It's an idle, unnecessary thought, but it's better than thinking of Byakuran, the Sky that has swallowed him whole and that cages his Storm within its tight grasp.

Nothing like the gentle Sky that once bestowed him with sun so bright that it could blind; rain so tranquil that it made his heart boil with anger, which roused a storm; clouds stubborn and fickle but without which a storm doesn't exist and neither does rain; mist so mysterious that he still has no fucking idea which is the true one and which is not; lighting so sudden that his temper flares and that only aggravates the storm more.

Hayato sighs as he slumps on his seat, painfully aware of the cards that he had played in this game that is all too dangerous to mess around with.

He wants that perfect world Byakuran has spoken of – that world where the Tenth can be just _Tsuna_ and where Gokudera can be just Hayato, without anything heavy weighing him down.

He falls asleep at some point during the flight, and his dreams consist of the middle school days with violent babies, Cavallone idiots that are no mafiosi and baseball idiots with no talent for assassination.

It's the dream he wants to catch most of all.

* * *

"I'm off to Japan now."

It's that time, Byakuran decides with almost glum solemnity. It's that time where Shou-chan bares his fangs at him for real.

If he were anything less than what he was right now, he would feel bitter by the evident betrayal of his most trusted aide, but as it is, he feels only a mere twinge in his chest where his physical heart beats and where the metaphorical heart has died.

It might very well be his imagination, and so he ignores it, and smiles at his most trusted person one of his Grammy winning smiles.

"I see," he drawls instead of asking how the Vongola are faring now that Sawada Tsunayoshi is dead. He bets Shou-chan's expression would have been a sight to bear but, alas, he needs Shou-chan to lure the past Vongola in before he can reveal that _he knows._

"It's sad to see you go," he starts pleasantly, his voice coated with saccharine and honey, and he regards Shou-chan evenly with a pair of unnatural eyes, "Shou-chan."

"It was at your command, Byakuran-san," Shou-chan replies just as evenly, but Byakuran sees the underlying torment and internal fuss over the past Vongola and how they were supposed to arrive the day after. He notices the dark rings under Shou-chan's dull eyes, sees the strain he has placed upon his once beloved Sun's shoulders.

It's a wonderful thing to know how much Shou-chan suffers, he thinks and he smiles again as he lifts a hand to beckon the redhead closer to his desk.

He doesn't go for his subordinates, they come for him.

And Shou-chan has always been the most loyal, most obedient of them all, even if all of it is but a mere facade meant to fool him.

It's okay, though.

Byakuran rests his palm on Shou-chan's cheek as he looks up at that pallid face and sunken eyes and dishevelled hair, all of which he has seen before – if not in the university, then in different universes. They have a way of getting together, you see; it's something Byakuran loves to call destiny.

For Shou-chan, it's something much closer to a calamity – but what the redhead doesn't know can't harm him, and so Byakuran refrains from speaking of the other destinies meant for them.

"It was," Byakuran agrees pleasantly. "It's so good to see how compliant you are with my requests."

A ghost of a smile touches Shou-chan's lips. "When the word comes from the boss, the subordinate has no choice but to comply." The engineer stiffly wrenches the hand away from his cheek, which amuses Byakuran. As stiff as always, this Shou-chan. "That, and we can finally start this operation for the Vongola Rings."

"You have been looking forward to this, too," Byakuran observes almost clinically as he retracts his hand and pushes a marshmallow to his own lips. Then, with the marshmallow in his mouth, Byakuran tilts his head back and laughs again – at the irony of the situation Shou-chan is not fully aware of, at Shou-chan's words meant to fabricate his lies, at the world.

Shou-chan doesn't react noticeably at the outburst, and merely nods his consent as hands nervously adjust the belts of his Millefiore outfit.

(Sheep in wolf's clothing, Byakuran sometimes thinks.)

"Have a safe trip, Shou-chan~," Byakuran chirps as he waves his most trusted person off, knowing fully well that the next time they see face-to-face, it would be as enemies.

A pity – he _had_ been fond of Shou-chan.

* * *

Two days later, with the briefcase hanging from his hand, Hayato is trudging through the forest and through the mist that covers the location of his boss' coffin with a heart as heavy as that white, round machine Byakuran once show the blueprints of.

The memory of Tsuna's pallid, bloodied face flashes in his mind, and it evokes the guilt within him again. He pushes it away as well as he can even when he feel the bitter tears prickling at the corners of his eyes just as he finds the clearing where the coffin is.

It's for the sake of the Tenth, he tells himself as he accidentally steps on a twig. The sound coincides the breaking of his heart – his eyes have caught a glimpse of familiar fluff of brown hair, and it takes everything in him not to run to the Tenth pathetically and kiss his face and hands and shower him with agonized affection that Tsuna would probably reject in the end.

But what he does is terribly close to that.

"You are...!" The words slip from his mouth as he drops down to his knees in front of the coffin he refuses to look at and as his hands grip Tsuna's not-so-broad shoulders too tightly and with desperation that has been on his mind ever since the Tenth's first kill.

Tsuna's brown eyes stare widely back at him, just enough to make his heart beat fast within his cramped and yet so hollow chest. It's been so _long_ since this _innocent_ expression has been shown to him...

Then Tsuna laughs, awkwardly breaking the heavy silence that falls between them, and mumbles that somehow it seems like the bazooka had hit him.

Hayato narrows his eyes, pain lingering in his gut. Would this Tsuna hate him for waht he's doing?

No, hate has never been Tsuna's way of dealing with anything.

"That's right..." he whispers, voice strangled. "Only five minutes..." Byakuran had given him only five minutes extra before his past self would be brought back, too.

His hands loosened their hold on Tsuna's shoulders before he slips out a photo from his suit jacket – it's of Irie Shouichi, the man who has coincidentally given Hayato the chance of remedying his mistake of being unable to save his Tenth.

"When you get back to the past, you have to eliminate this man. I know you guys have already met him, if only briefly, in that time period..."

It's not like Tsuna will get a chance to return to the past, however, but-

Hayato counts down the last seconds of his time with the teenager, and takes in the scared look that paints Tsuna's face – oh, he's the Tenth he has always held in his heart so tightly, with no chnce of fleeing.

Or perhaps it's Hayato that cannot run away.

"Tsuna-" his lips part instinctively when there areonly ten seconds left, and Tsuna looks at him wide-eyedly, like he has never seen Hayato before – it's no wonder, Hayato _never_ calls Tsuna by his own name. Always the Tenth, _always._

But things have changed.

"I'm so sorry," Hayato whispers, and his mask cracks as he lets the water slip down to his cheeks from his eyes – but Tsuna never gets to see those tears as he has already been replaced by a frantic but not quite as teary Gokudera Hayato of the past.

This is how it ends, and how it begins.

* * *

In his castle of white lies, bent bones and twisted personalities, Byakuran Gesso laughs as he waits for the 14-year-old Sawada Tsunayoshi to come make his life a tad more interesting – along with Gokudera Hayato, that temperamental vixen that was – _is_, _would always be_ – the perfect tool for him to utilize against the Vongola Famiglia.

The blueprint of Vongola's destruction.

He couldn't wait to meet the 14-year-old Hayato-kun – just as he couldn't wait to see the look of stupefied surprise on Shou-chan's face when he'd reveal that he had known everything since the very start.

_The first stage of the game commences._


End file.
